Just, Ginny
by that would be too long
Summary: When Ginny Weasley first saw Harry Potter, it changed the course of her life, even if she didn't fully understand. Through seven change-filled years, he affects who she is, only just grasping this himself.
1. The First Time

**The First Time**

I was small then. 10. Did you know that scientists say that at ten-years-old the senses are at their height? So that when I was ten and I saw Harry Potter, I saw him, say, maybe better than anyone?

Even if it was just for a few moments.

When I was younger, my brother, Bill, had a girlfriend he took home one summer. She was very pretty and kind to me. She showed me how to do my hair in crimps, and she showed me shiny magazine pictures of celebrities. She told me that Harry Potter had never been photographed after he defeated You-Know-Who and hadn't been seen ever since he became famous. I remember telling her that he must be in the magazine somewhere, maybe behind Celestina Warbeck, or Gilderoy Lockhart, who was waving up at me. Any celebrity, to really be a celebrity, must have his picture in this magazine.

My parents had already told me about Harry Potter, but his accidental fame was intriguing. They said he didn't even know! I remember lying in my bed hugging the sheets to myself, wishing that I were Harry Potter. Because then, I wouldn't have to feed chickens and help my mum make casseroles. _I_ would know that I was Harry Potter; I wouldn't be so silly to be ignorant. I didn't know Harry then, and, I was young.

And when I did see him, I still didn't know him. He was so exciting! – But just for a few moments. He looked, well, not at all what I expected him to look like. He was so normal looking. He looked nearly my age! It was wrong – he was _Harry Potter_. The elusive Harry Potter – it was weird to even be looking at him. And it made him all more real to me.

The side-along apparition home was quick. Before we left, I figured maybe it wouldn't be so great to be Harry after all. Here I was, holding my mum's hand. And there he was, desperately trying to grab it too, because then he would have someone to help him. I always had someone for me. All he had was his fame.

When we got home I scoured my parents library for hours. I found a musty old book with gold letters that told me the volume was called _The Dark Arts Conquered. _In _The Dark Arts Conquered_, after thumbing through all the pictures of fallen wizards who had helped defeat all sorts of different Dark wizards, I found a small picture of baby Harry in his mum's arms with his father next to both of them.

I put it one my wall. When I looked at it, it reminded me of what I had, and what I didn't have yet.


	2. Pedestal

**Pedestal**

It was a normal Tuesday morning. I got up to eat breakfast, not even bothering to change out of my nightdress. In a family like mine, who really cared what you came down to eat in, as long as you were wearing something?

Rounding the corner, I saw my second image of Harry Potter. That picture is still frozen in my mind. Frozen in my mind of course, because I only saw him for half a second, and then, as my mind worked to tell me the consequences of his appearance, I promptly ran away, up to my bedroom to examine the situation at hand.

_He's here, he's here, he's here._

He's _here._

_Here! He's _here.

When my brother Ron had arrived from the train at the beginning of summer, he had stories to tell. All in some form of another involved Harry. So of course, I had questions.

Who could listen to a story about a Sorceror's Stone, a three-headed dog, a baby dragon, and Quidditch matches and not want to ask details?

Harry had become an odd figure in my life. Almost like an idol, really. I might have put him on a pedestal…but I figured he deserved it. I felt like I knew him. I felt a million different things when I thought of him. Amazement, pity, awe…motivation. Mostly fascination.

That wasn't _really_ a million, but some feelings just don't have names.

I also wondered a million questions. I had started to ask Ron. I didn't want to know silly things, like what a reporter would ask a celebrity, (what kind of toothpaste do you use?) I wanted to know things like what he wanted for Christmas, who his friends were, if he liked music or not. I wanted to be his friend.

I wanted to know what made Harry a real person.

Fred and George heard my questions. So did everyone else. I probably asked too many. Too many people, I mean. They were never enough questions to ask about Harry.

It might sound a bit creepy, really, my fascination with Harry. But maybe, if you were me, and you spent your life wishing you were famous and different and not so alone, and then you see someone famous, who is much more alone than you are, but not whining about it at all…

I don't know why. I really don't. I just was.

As I sprinted into my room I raced to my wall and pulled down Harry's picture. It's not as if he would ever go into my room…but just in case, say, Ron needed to borrow one of my…my…things, well…I was being silly. But I still placed the picture under my mattress. Just in case.

They were both probably in Ron's room by now. I crept towards the door…

And there he was!! Right there!!

Oh dear!

_Slam!_

I really was becoming pitiful.

...x...

The following days, I would occasionally see Harry around the house, adding to the number of times I had gotten the chance to look at him. I wanted to get to know him, but I could only watch. I found out he was kind. He had a nice laugh. I don't think he thought I was pitiful.

I always felt that I had more thoughts in my head than other people. I always thought something great would happen to me, and I just had to wait for it. I thought a lot of things.

And then I got to write them down.

We were school shopping, mostly for me, because I needed so many things. I'd never wanted my parents to spend so much of their money on me, and I felt a strange mixture of satisfaction and remorse.

It was in Flourish and Blott's that it happened. The beginning to one of the greatest of my somethings, because there was definately more than one, that was exciting and life changing. But this one – this one was not great in the happy sense.

I didn't notice that the man put the book in my cauldron; I only noticed its appearance when we left the store.

_Was my Transfiguration book really going to be that big? It can't possibly – oh!_

There was another book there, inside the Transfiguration book, a smaller one, leather-bound, a diary.

I started writing in it that night.

Because, it was that night that I realized that through all my adoration of Harry there was also a crush. Small at first, but it grew throughout the years that followed as I got to know him more.

We were sitting at dinner – all of us. Through some very tough maneuvering and weaving I had managed to sit next to Harry for the very first time that summer. I watched him eat his treacle tart out of the corner of my eye and I revealed small smiles whenever he laughed.

The conversations at the dinner table were loud, but since he was next to me I could hear him, talking to my mother, just as clearly as if he was using a microphone.

"Thank you Mrs. Weasley. So much – for everything. Your family is...is-" Harry looked around the room, searching for the word. "-Perfect," he finished, his eyes shining.

My mother started chuckling. "Oh no, Harry, not perfect, no," she said, looking at the family around the table with a small smile and ending with a happy sigh. "But you're welcome – for everything. We'll always be here for you!" She patted his head.

Harry had joined in her laughing about his funny choice of words so his grin was wide.

He turned to me and it became wider.

I could feel my face grow hot and then I looked down, suppressing my own smile at what I had just realized.

I fancied Harry Potter, could anyone believe that? Outrageous...presumptuous, really...

_...absolutely ridiculous, isn't it Tom? Harry would never ever want someone like me! I know he likes my family, but do you think that maybe that's just because he wants to be a part of it? Of course if we, I mean me and him, then he _would_ be a part...but he would probably only want to be my brother if he ever wanted to join my family...but it wouldn't be because of me that he would want to! It'd be because of my parents...and Ron, of course! Not me._

_I'm so glad I found you, because I'm so glad I have someone to tell everything to – do you know how I found you? It's the silliest thing! You were just _there_ in one of my books out of Flourish and Blott_'s, _of course that was right after the fight my dad got in, I'll have to tell you about that later, but really, it was like fate, Tom! Wasn't it, Tom?_

I had happily started writing in it, and the best thing had happened – it had written back, like my friend. His name was Tom and this had been his diary once and Oh Ginny, how are you feeling today, have you been well?

I thought he had cared. At least, for a while I thought so.

...x...

It was nerve-wracking. School coming _so soon_, that is. I was scared of not getting into Gryffindor, I was scared (and excited, however) of the interactions I was sure to have with Harry and I was...well, it was my first day of school! Of course it was nerve-wracking.

Except I always figured that my nerves could be more wracked than others.

I was planning to latch onto Ron and Harry or Fred and George (hopefully the former) on the Hogwarts Express, but instead I found myself in a compartment filled with babbling girls, who babbled to me, and I myself found it amusing to babble back.

I'd never giggled so much.

I almost forgot about Harry, who I had noticed had never gotten on the train.

If he had, I don't think I would have ever learned to giggle like I learned on that train ride.

Fred and George came to talk to me about Harry and Ron and all three of us were nervous, but we figured, (or I did), that boys were obnoxious and they were somewhere causing trouble, but Fred and George countered this and asked how could someone cause trouble if the Weasley twins were being calm?

I was right, though.

They flew Dad's flying car into a big fighting tree! Harry was so complex and brave and funny and wow. He flew a car into a tree! It was certain that this must be Harry's idea, this, well, completely _cool_ idea.

And I was in Gryffindor. Good thing, too, with a family like mine.

It's also a good thing Harry's in Gryffindor.

School started like normal, well, how I supposed was normal, but not much happened after something so big as Harry and Ron's arrival.

I had classes and homework and friends and someone's cat lived under my bed and sometimes I'd sit in a chair by the fireplace to have a perfect view of Harry doing his homework with his friends. And then I'd go up to my dormitory and I would giggle with some of my new friends about Harry even though I told myself the secret would be only mine, but I just couldn't help it, I _wanted_ to talk about him, to anyone I could.

And I think Ron may have been a bit sick of me.

But I was having fun, and images of Harry only made life more exciting, more intriguing. Because Harry, you see, was exciting and intriguing.

Now that I saw Harry so often I was inspired to be my best me. I took long showers and raised my hand in class because I wanted to look good and I wanted to be smart.

Mostly because Harry looked good and Harry was smart.

And I was, as my mother would say, _in touch with my emotions._ Writing in the diary kept me associating with everything I felt, helped me let it all out.

But things were changing. Sometimes after I wrote in the diary, things would happen that I wouldn't remember or know about, but time had passed, and I knew, I knew whatever it was that had happened wouldn't make me proud.

I was more scared than before I started school.

What if Harry found out?

What if he found out before I did?

...x...

What is the Chamber of Secrets, because it's been opened and there's all this red paint on the wall and it's down my robes too and I don't remember what's going on because I wasn't at the Halloween feast, at least I know that much, but there's so much I don't know!! And do I even want to know?!

Harry, Ron, and Hermione weren't at the feast either. All my roommates think those three, mostly Harry, opened the Chamber thing and I yelled at them because Harry would never do such a thing as...as...petrify...a cat! I like cats, Harry would never...never...

But would I?

I told my diary everything. Tom was scared too. Sometimes I wondered if Tom was real, well then, he'd like me, and maybe then, maybe Harry would see what he is missing. Could Harry be jealous? But I'm not really sure what he is missing. I hope he is missing something.

...x...

More people are being petrified and I don't know what is happening! Everyone thinks it's Harry, but he's so _good, _Harry wouldn't do such a thing, he wouldn't!

I think it's Tom. He is too good to be true. He is like Harry except he talks to me, but why is he talking to me anyway? Tom is one of the reasons I've been getting through the school year, but I want to stop crying every night! Percy's tried to console me, but Fred and George aren't doing any good and I love my family and I don't want to hurt them!

I threw Tom down a toilet. I almost hit Moaning Myrtle – almost. Dammit.

...x...

Everything should have gotten better. I felt light-hearted. The next time I saw Harry I wanted to kiss him! Except...no...

Harry had the diary. Harry had it. Well, he had it after he got it back from that Malfoy. Draco, I think his first name is, is a really terrible boy. But Harry! He could – what if – but Tom wouldn't tell him everything! Tom was supposed to be my friend, maybe he still would be! Harry would know how I felt about him...oh _no..._and then Harry might figure it could be me causing all of these attacks! He'd know all about me! Everything! He probably wouldn't like me at all if he knew everything...I was nothing like him.

I didn't even care that Harry heard my Valentine and didn't respond exactly the way I pictured.

(Him running into my arms, heavily breathing, "I knew that was from you the moment I heard it, it was beautiful...just like everything about you...oh, Ginny!!"

He was blushing just like me but I was blushing more and for more than one reason.

All throughout Charms I thought and I thought and I thought. I thought about how to get the diary back and I thought about my failed Valentine, which I worked so hard on to get the wording right during an entire History of Magic period, and I thought about the picture of baby Harry, now under my four-poster mattress in the First Year girls' dormitory.

Well...I'd just have to steal the diary back.

How exciting.

...x...

The whole duration of my theft was terrifying. I was so afraid that Harry or someone else would walk in on me, but they didn't. Harry was out at a Quidditch practice, and the others...well...I guess I just got lucky - Lucky that Lockhart made too many cupcakes, which were actually quite tasty, though there were so many leftovers, and every boy I know was at dinner trying to eat the lot. I got the diary out of Harry's trunk while enjoying looking through his objects, which were all buried in a whole mess of socks.

I felt like I knew so much more about Harry than before I walked into his dorm, though I felt so, so terrible about stealing from him! But then again, the diary was mine in the first place!

Even though I only found it as well.

...x...

And then I was writing and writing and Tom was answering and then...then I woke up in my bed.

Hermione Granger _and _Percy's girlfriend had been petrified.

Percy was devastated. No one knew except me and probably some of Penelope's friends if she was a girl at all, and I tried to console him like he tried to console me but it wasn't so easy.

Ron and Harry walked around quite glumly as well. It was terrible.

Because I was sure it was all my fault, causing all these people pain. I was only eleven! What was I doing to them, to Harry?

I had to tell him! I felt like there was a huge weight on my chest, just crushing me, and I just had to...he would know what was wrong, what to do! He was so smart! Ron would understand too...we've always been on the best terms. Mostly, I just wanted reassurance that Harry wouldn't stare at me in disgust when he found out that it was me, oh God, it was me.

I tried to tell him that morning. Percy stopped me – he thought I was talking about Penelope. I couldn't say anything with Percy there, and well, of course I don't want Harry to know! I can't tell him!! I was just being silly – I bolted.

Which was sillier, really.

Because then I ran up to write in my diary, to Tom, to tell him how I knew it had to be me and I didn't want to keep this to myself anymore and oh, Tom! What's wrong with me??

Tom came out of the diary, then. And the answer to my question -

Harry told me. Since, I remember, the very next thing that happened while in my right mind was waking up – next to Harry. In the Chamber of Secrets.

...x...

Harry saved me. _He saved me. _

Other than realizing I was in love, I also realized that I was going to be expelled! My parents and family would just _hate_ me! I mean, I helped petrify my brother's girlfriend!

They didn't hate me though. My mum was just happy I was alive.

The message I wrote on the wall was pretty gruesome. It still gives me shivers whenever I think I wrote my own farewell...

Everybody thought I was dead. And I can promise, that even though I felt so awful for making my family cry and grieve for me even though I was still alive, it's nice to know they care. About me.

The rest of the school cared too, but I think more for gossip. All my friends and even not my friends asked me all about what happened, but I couldn't remember, since being possessed isn't anything to remember. Something that I was very glad about, by the way. They weren't, however.

The thing is, I didn't feel like a small, insignificant part of the family anymore.

Dad told me I was the only girl for generations in the Weasley family, and that was something to be proud of.

I never was, until now.

Harry said the whole bewitched diary ordeal was not my fault! Harry consoled me, and he did a much better job than Percy, but I think this is probably because of the nice way his hair sticks up in the back and falls over his scar. I think of my poem and I actually am quite proud of it. I think I captured the real Harry. Harry talked to me all the way to London on the train from Hogwarts, and I say, I talked back! I like how I am around Harry, probably considering, that I actually am someone.


End file.
